Invisible
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: Mycroft's obsession with his brother is all just a cover to hide his own unhealthy lifestyle.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Here's a brand new story! Let me know what you think =]**_

* * *

"Another biscuit, brother?" Sherlock said with a smirk, leaning forward and lifting a plate of biscuits towards his brother.

Mycroft's eyes were practically glued to the plate of biscuits. "No, thank you. I must be off, Sherlock. I just wanted to visit while I was passing." he replied, getting to his feet and leaving 221B with his umbrella in hand.

As soon as he reached the safety of the cold leather interior of his car, Mycroft looked down at his hands and frowned when he found his right hand to have a slight tremor. He swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the cravings rushing through his body.

After what felt like forever, Mycroft almost bolted from the car when it arrived outside of his home. Taking a few breaths to steady himself, Mycroft left the car with his usual grace before he went into the privacy of his home. Taking care to hang his umbrella on its hook and to slip his polished shoes off carefully, he made his way to the living room. He kneeled on the floor beside the coffee table and pulled a small bag of white powder and his credit card from his jacket pocket. With practiced ease, he pushed the powder into neat lines before he leaned down and inhaled. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the drugs hit his bloodstream, giving him the hit he needed to make his mind fly. While his brother took cocaine to switch off, Mycroft took cocaine to reach his full potential.

With thoughts firing away in his mind, Mycroft got to his feet and slowly made his way to his office. He sat down and began working, solving problems much faster after the hit. He worked late into the night, falling asleep at his desk as the high wore off.

* * *

"Sir? Sir?" Anthea called, gently waking Mycroft with a slight tap on his shoulder. She knew not to get too close, but he was late for work.

"Anthea?" Mycroft groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You overslept, Mr Holmes. It's 9am and you were due in the office at 8am." Anthea explained, moving a few steps back, "I came to check that you were alright."

"I'm quite alright, Anthea. I'll go and get changed and I'll be with you shortly." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet and going upstairs to freshen up.

Anthea left the office and locked the door before she went into the living room to wait for her boss. She was shocked to find Mycroft's credit card surrounded by white powder on the glass coffee table. Having previously worked on assignments to stop drug cartels, she knew what cocaine looked like.

"Come along-" Mycroft started, appearing in the doorway. He realized his mistake immediately. He moved forward and quickly tidied the coffee table, pocketing his credit card and sweeping the cocaine under a magazine. Without another word to Anthea, he collected his umbrella from its hook and went out to the waiting car.

Anthea watched him before she followed, not daring to state any kind of criticism. She sat beside him in the car and busied herself with her phone, trying to ignore the tension in the air between them.

"Anything that you think you might have seen, you are not to speak about. I am not an addict and it is not a risk to my work." Mycroft said sharply.

"I understand, Sir." Anthea replied with a nod.

* * *

As he no longer had to hide his secret from Anthea, Mycroft's drug use increased. He kept a small stash in the office, specifically to help with working late and had various stashes hidden around his home. The standard of Mycroft's work increased as the cocaine made his brain fly so Anthea dutifully turned a blind eye to her boss' lifestyle.

"You have a little...powder..." Anthea said softly, reaching out and carefully wiping some stray powder from Mycroft's face, "That's better." she added.

"What would I do without you, my dear?" Mycroft said with a warm smile before he went off to his meeting.

Anthea sighed and sat down on the edge of his desk while he was gone. She could see the affect that the cocaine was having on him. His moods were much more severe, his cravings intense, his decisions risky and his skin was incredibly pale. He was her boss and she cared for him. She didn't want to break his trust, but she also didn't want to sit back and watch him spiral into cocaine addiction.

She scribbled a note and left it on his desk, ' _Gone for lunch. A x_ ', before she collected her things and left the office. She was careful to avoid any CCTV cameras on her way to 221B Baker Street. She pushed the door open and went up the stairs to the living room. Sherlock was hunched over his microscope at the kitchen table whilst John read the paper in his armchair.

"Sorry to interrupt." Anthea said.

"Those heels aren't very subtle for a quiet entrance." Sherlock said, not looking up, "What does Mycroft want now?"

"Mycroft didn't send me. I hoped that I could discuss a confidential matter with you." Anthea replied.

"Come and sit down." John said, offering Anthea a seat, "Come on, Sherlock." he added.

Sherlock sighed and moved from his experiment to his arm chair, sitting and examining Anthea.

"It's Mycroft. He's taken up cocaine." Anthea declared, not seeing any reason to hide the issue. Both Sherlock and John laughed.

"Mycroft? Cocaine?" John laughed.

"I appreciate that it is unlike him, but this habit had been going on for sometime. It's only recently that it has started to get out of control." Anthea explained, "He's beginning to look unwell and I fear that if I stand back then it will affect his work."

"Wow. Mycroft's an addict." John said with a slight whistle, "I didn't see that one coming."

"You only discovered this recently but his usage has already increased significantly. He doesn't inject it as that would be too _common_ , so he inhales it as that requires no paraphernalia."

Anthea nodded, "He uses his credit card." she said, "I'm unsure what to do. He's my boss, so I don't feel right trying to stop him taking the drugs, but he's already changing. He's not thinking things through, he takes risks and puts our agents in danger."

"I'll sort him out. He dragged me through until I was clean, so I'll do the same with him." Sherlock replied, a determined expression on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft returned from his meeting to find Anthea sat at her desk. He could clearly see that she'd left the office while he was away, but he was far too happy to be bothered where she'd been.

"How did it go, Sir?" she asked with a smile, looking up from her paperwork.

"As expected. The French, as always, disagree with any proposal that we put forward. We'll wear them down eventually." Mycroft said, continuing towards his office.

"Your brother is here, Sir." Anthea called and Mycroft sighed before he opened the door.

Sherlock was sat in Mycroft's chair with his feet up on the desk and Mycroft's stash in his hands. "Hello, brother dear. I think we need to have a chat." he said.

"What are you doing with that? Have you been through my desk?" Mycroft shouted, becoming defensive as he stormed over to his brother and grabbed the bags of powder.

"I was thinking that we could share." Sherlock said sarcastically, "We're both addicts, after all."

"I am not an addict!" Mycroft hissed.

"Calm down, brother. You're clearly coming down from a high, hence your dramatic reaction." Sherlock said, getting to his feet, "You're itching for another hit. You want it don't you, Mycroft? The cocaine calls to you, doesn't it?"

"This is my life, Sherlock! You can't just swan in and out when you feel like it!" Mycroft shouted, "Get out! You have no excuse to meddle!"

"You're supposed to be my older brother, Mycroft. You're supposed to be the clever one. I'm not going to let you kill yourself with cocaine." Sherlock said, "You saved my life when you got me clean. I won't let you lose everything that you've worked for. Now sit down and talk to me."

Mycroft sat down and put the bags on the desk, trying to ignore his need for a hit, "I don't need counseling from you, Sherlock. How did you even find out?"

"When did it start?" Sherlock asked, sitting down opposite his brother.

"When Moriarty arrived. He sent me a package full of drugs to ' _make me happy'_." Mycroft replied, "I destroyed the majority of it, but I was curious. You used it to slow your thoughts, but with a mind like mine... I feel like a God, Sherlock. I can solve any problem, learn any language and do anything after a hit."

"How often do you take a hit?" Sherlock asked.

"It used to be once a week, but after Anthea found out, I take it almost every day." Mycroft admitted.

"I want to help you, Mycroft. This can't continue. You need to have a clear head for your work. You have other people's lives in your hands." Sherlock said with a sigh, "Come on. Get your things. You're taking some time off."

"I am not!" Mycroft protested, "I haven't taken leave in over 15 years, I have no intention of doing so now!"

"You can't work and go through a detox. You'll be a mess. You've got plenty of leave so you're going to take it and get well." Sherlock said, "Come on or I'll drag you out in front of your superiors and your staff."

"Just give me a moment to pack my briefcase." Mycroft said. He got up and moved around his office, filling his briefcase with files and USB drives. When he was ready, he picked up his umbrella and walked out to speak with Anthea.

"I'll handle everything here. If you need me then just call and I'll be there, Sir." Anthea said softly, smiling up at her boss.

"I'll be back as soon as my brother allows me to." Mycroft replied with a roll of his eyes and a slight wink. He turned and led the way out of the building, Sherlock following along behind him.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Please do review and let me know what you think! =]_**


	3. Chapter 3

"What are your findings, doctor?" Mycroft asked. He was lying down on his barely-used leather sofa in the living room and John was giving him a quick medical.

"Honestly? You're just as bad as Sherlock. You've got an irregular heartbeat, high blood pressure and your lungs don't sound good." John replied as he put his equipment back into his medical bag.

"But will I live, doctor?" Mycroft asked sarcastically.

"Yes, you'll live. If you give up your drug habit." John said, zipping up the bag and placing it on the floor.

Sherlock returned from upstairs with a box full of small bags of cocaine. "You need better hiding places, brother." he said.

"I have much more imaginative hiding places than you. You haven't found all of it and you never will." Mycroft replied as he sat up and buttoned up his white dress shirt.

"If you don't tell me where the rest of it is, we won't deal with your detox at home, I'll have you put into rehab. Just like you did to me." Sherlock warned, "I won't stop, Mycroft. Not until you are clean."

Mycroft sighed as he pulled on his waistcoat and buttoned that up too, "Fine. I'll humor you. I'll get the rest of them for you." he said.

"I'm coming with you. John is too slow to notice your tricks." Sherlock said, putting the box down and following Mycroft.

The two Holmes brothers walked around the house as Mycroft dug out the entirety of his stash. He knew what the drugs were doing to him and part of him wanted to be clean and back to normal. He could feel the withdrawal beginning and didn't want to think about the state he'd be in for a few weeks.

* * *

John had seen many things in his years as Sherlock's flatmate and best friend, but in all that time, he'd never ever seen Mycroft out of control. He'd never even imagined that Mycroft wore anything other than three piece suits. To see the British Government wandering around in pyjamas and slippers was strange, to say the least. Mycroft did well to keep his physical symptoms hidden, but he struggled to hide the withdrawal effects on his mind. Sherlock was on hand to support his brother, as both he and John had moved into Mycroft's home for a few weeks.

"Why can't I think?! This is madness! I'm sure that my brain is dying!" Mycroft shouted in frustration, picking up one of the decorative vases in the hallway and throwing it at the wood-paneled wall.

"Sit down and take the sleeping pills that John has for you." Sherlock said, walking over to his brother, "You'll have difficulty concentrating until the withdrawal is over. It'd be much easier if you slept through the worst of it."

"I'm not weak. I've been trained to resist torture. I can cope with this." Mycroft said, his cold mask falling in place to protect his exhausted mind.

"You're not weak, but you need to sit down. Throwing things won't make you feel any better." John said, appearing beside Sherlock.

"What do you know? The great John Watson, blogger and danger addict! How dare you come in here and lecture me about my addiction whilst you still pander to yours! You are nothing compared to me, John, not even close!" Mycroft shouted, letting all his anger out at John.

Without any hesitation, Sherlock punched his brother square in the face, knocking him to the floor. "Don't you dare speak to John like that. I understand you're in pain and you're angry, but he isn't the one you should be angry at." he said.

"Stop! Stop!" John said, pulling Sherlock back and getting in between the two of them, "You both need to calm down. Sherlock, go and get ice from the kitchen."

Sherlock glared at his brother before he stalked off to the kitchen.

"Come on, Mycroft. Let's go and sit down." John said, helping the man to his feet.

Mycroft sat down in the living room and allowed John to clean up his bloody nose. "You'll be black and blue for a few days, but your nose isn't broken." John said after a quick examination.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so rude to you." Mycroft said, pressing a tissue against his nose, "Sherlock and I haven't lived in the same house for a very long time. We rile each other up. I shouldn't have dragged you into our petty fight."

"I understand, Mycroft. Withdrawals are tough, but you're getting there. Another week and you'll be back to normal." John replied with a reassuring pat on Mycroft's shoulder.

* * *

"I'm going out. I need some fresh air." Mycroft declared one morning, appearing fully dressed in a tailored three-piece suit in the kitchen. The tremors in his hands were the only symptoms left of his withdrawal process and he managed to hide them to an extent.

"Don't get yourself killed, brother dear." Sherlock called as Mycroft left with his umbrella.

"Two weeks of being clean won't have much of an effect on him if he's been taking the cocaine for years." John said, looking up from his breakfast.

"I know. He hides the cravings, but they're still just as strong as they were two weeks ago." Sherlock replied with a sigh, "Do you think we've done the right thing?"

"I think so." John nodded, "I mean, he was all over the place before and now he seems much more collected."

"Mycroft is a master of his emotions. Even I can't see behind his poker face. For all I know, this could be an elaborate distraction to stop me from meddling in one of his cases." Sherlock replied.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far! The next chapter is coming soon..._  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! Reviews really help to keep me motivated, so the more reviews, the more chapters I can write! As always, let me know what you think of the latest chapter. =]**_

* * *

Mycroft took a private car to the Diogenes Club, where he met Anthea for lunch. She was sat waiting for him in the private office with a lunch menu in her hand.

"Good morning, Sir." Anthea said, turning to her boss and smiling warmly.

"It's good to see you, Anthea." Mycroft replied, taking a seat opposite her.

"How are you feeling? You look much better." Anthea said softly, studying his face and hands.

"I am well. As well as one can be whilst battling cravings for cocaine." Mycroft replied, examining the menu and trying to keep his tremors under control.

"I've managed to cover most of your workload, but I must admit, the finer details of currency exchange rates go over my head." Anthea said with a slight laugh.

Mycroft laughed too because it had been so long since he'd last laughed. He made a mental note to file this memory away, to preserve the happy feeling. It was rare that Mycroft felt truly happy as he spent so little time with others. He cared for his brother but their relationship was dysfunctional. Sherlock was the only person in the world that had a chance of keeping up with him mentally, but they hadn't had a close relationship for over 20 years. In his teenage years, he'd often played with Sherlock and run around the garden with him, but things had turned sour when Mycroft grew up and went off to university. Sherlock had felt abandoned and his revenge had been to cut Mycroft out of his life.

"Sir? Sir?" Anthea called gently, "They're here to take our lunch order."

"Sorry, my dear." Mycroft said, coming back to the present, "I'll have the lamb and a large glass of merlot." he added to the waiter. The waiter took their menus and left them alone again.

"Is wine part of your detox plan?" Anthea teased.

"Of course not but he doesn't have to know." Mycroft replied with a smile, "There's no harm in wine to ease the drug cravings."

* * *

"How much did he drink?" Sherlock asked as Mycroft stumbled into the hallway, Anthea beside him.

"One bottle of red wine and 5 blackjack shots." Anthea replied.

"What's a blackjack shot?" John asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It's half black tequila and half Jack Daniels." Anthea replied, "He was fine before the shots. I managed to convince him to stop after the five shots."

"Great, so instead of a drug addict, he'll be a drinker." Sherlock sighed, going to his brother and steadying him, "Come on, brother, you need to sleep it off."

Whilst Sherlock dragged his drunk brother upstairs, John stood in the hallway with Anthea. "Why did you let him drink?" he asked.

"I thought that one glass wouldn't hurt as he looks so much better. As we were having lunch, I didn't notice how much he was drinking until he requested the shots. He wanted them to be flaming shots, but naturally the Diogenes Club didn't want him to set off the smoke alarms." Anthea replied.

"Do you often have drunken lunches with your boss?" John asked with a smile.

Anthea blushed a little, "Of course not. We are just colleagues and rarely spend time together outside of the office. I have been his longest serving assistant so far, so I like to think that he likes me." she replied, ever the polite professional, "If you'll excuse me, John, I must get back to work."

* * *

"You're an idiot, brother." Sherlock said without looking up from John's laptop as Mycroft entered the room. His elder brother had slept off the alcohol and came downstairs at around 11pm.

"Your kind words warm my heart, Sherlock." Mycroft mumbled as he made his way through the house and to the kitchen. He cooked himself a basic meal of scrambled eggs on toast before he joined his brother in the living room again.

"Why did you order shots?" Sherlock asked, looking up and watching his brother.

"Simply, why not?" Mycroft replied, focusing on his food.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? If it's an attempt to get to me then it won't work. I'm a sociopath and you're Mummy's favourite so I got used to being second best to _perfect and oh so clever Mycroft_ years ago." Sherlock said with a frown.

"Not everything is about you, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, "Believe it or not, I have thoughts and emotions that have nothing to do with you. I have a life, brother, and not everything can be explained away as pathetic, childish arguments."

"A life? What life do you have?" Sherlock exclaimed, "You sit behind your desk and you haven't done legwork in years."

"For your information, brother, I have done legwork recently. Although I'd prefer not to repeat that particular mission as it proved fatal to a number of my agents. I was injured during the assignment, as you would know if you just bothered to look down on those in the shade of your genius!" Mycroft snapped.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Here's Chapter 5! Thanks for the reviews of the previous four chapters. Let me know what you think of this chapter! =]_**

* * *

 _"This is a terrorist organization, so we must remain vigilant at all times. Our job is to capture all of them in one manoeuvre and to disable any live explosives that they may be storing." Mycroft spoke to his group of agents in their secret hide-out before their planned assault on a terrorist location, "We have been subtle in our surveillance of them, so they shouldn't see us coming. Group A - I want you to spread out around the perimeter. Make sure that every exit is covered. Group B - you'll enter the warehouse with me. There are 20 of us and just a handful of them so this should be an easy mission."_

 _Anthea stood beside her boss, listening to his speech to the agents. Once he'd finished, she gently pulled him aside. "Are you sure that you're ready for this, Mr Holmes? It has been quite some time since you were last involved in an assault." she said gently._

 _"Anthea, I appreciate your concern. I've been exercising, my dear, and I'm ready to step back into the field. If my brother can rush around London chasing criminals then capturing a group of terrorists should be easy for me." Mycroft replied, "Don't think of me as your boss. You're my eyes and ears, so keep me informed via the ear piece."_

 _"Yes, Sir. Do be careful." Anthea said, letting him go and organize his group._

 _As Group A surrounded the perimeter of the large warehouse, Mycroft checked that his two handguns were loaded, that his Taser was on the right setting and that his bullet-proof vest covered his chest correctly. He was surprisingly nervous about his first assignment in over five years, but he dismissed it as excitement at being back in the field. After waiting a few minutes for Group A to position themselves, Mycroft led Group B into the building. They smashed their way through the outer doors with ease before they found themselves in a pitch black warehouse._

 _"Put on your night glasses. I'm getting heat signatures from the helicopter cameras. I can't tell if it's people or live electrics." Anthea said through Mycroft's ear piece and he did as he was told, putting his glasses on._

 _As Mycroft's glasses revealed a large bomb and hundreds of trip wires, he didn't have time to warn his group before one of them walked into a wire. A loud bang followed and the large explosion lit the warehouse with fire. The blast knocked Mycroft off his feet and debris from the roof rained down on him. A sharp pain came from his leg and he began to feel woozy. He looked around him, seeing that most of his group were badly injured._

 _"Sir! We have a rescue crew on their way now! They'll be there in minutes." Anthea's frantic voice said through the ear piece. Another piece of debris hit him, causing more pain. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep._

* * *

Mycroft tried not to think of the failed assignment too often, but he was well aware that he had led the mission and that he had blood on his hands from those who had died. He was sat in his home office, with the mission file open in front of him. Inside the file was a detailed list of fatalities and casualties.

 _Holmes, M. - Severed femoral artery in right leg, three broken ribs, sprained wrist and grade 3 concussion. Treatment at the scene, two days of in-patient care at King Edward VII Hospital, London, followed by out-patient care provided by consultants._

Anthea had been his first and only visitor during his brief stay in hospital and as he'd survived the incident, there hadn't been any reason to notify Sherlock. He'd been back to work within the week, but he'd been taken off field assignments permanently. The mission was swept under the rug as a failing and funerals were held for the 12 agents that had died. It wasn't until later that Mycroft discovered Moriarty's role in the mission. He'd known they were coming and had set them up to fail. Mycroft had barely any failed missions attached to his file, but this one was particularly embarrassing as it showed how easily Moriarty could play with both himself and his brother.

"It's been years since I've been able to sneak up on you, Mycroft. If you're Her Majesty's finest then she should be worried." Sherlock teased from where he was stood, just a few feet away from the desk.

Mycroft slammed the file shut, a dramatic but automatic response. "How long have you been stood there, Sherlock?"

"Long enough to see that you are crippled with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD as it's more commonly known." Sherlock replied, "Your hand was shaking when you were stuck in your head. That's not cravings, that's PTSD."

"I have a highly stressful job, some mental and physical response to that is entirely natural." Mycroft replied, "It does not mean that I have something wrong with me."

"You're dependent on your umbrella when you walk around outside of the house. Why? Because you favour your left leg. Conclusion? Your right leg must have suffered an injury that pained you for long enough to mean that you used your umbrella as a sort-of crutch. The habit has stuck." Sherlock said, his eyes focused on his elder brother, "I do see you, Mycroft. I see your weaknesses and your strengths. I have grown up with you, I know when you're trying to hide something from me."

"I have never hidden my injuries from you, Sherlock. You just choose to ignore them. You see me as some sort of immortal figure, the older brother that will always be around, ready to step in when you're out of your depth." Mycroft replied.

"Ridiculous. I'm never out of my depth." Sherlock scoffed.

"I am human, Sherlock. I can't be your umbrella forever." Mycroft said.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Here's another chapter! Let me know what you think, I love reading your feedback =]**_

* * *

"It's strange, John. He's not the Mycroft that I remember from my childhood." Sherlock said as he watched John make tea in the kitchen, "He's become all emotional and odd."

"What was he like when you were children?" John asked as he stirred in the milk.

"Cold and manipulative. That Mycroft would never turn to drugs or alcohol. He was always mature and sensible, he kept himself isolated from others so they couldn't taint him." Sherlock replied with a sigh.

"People change over time." John said, "You can't remain isolated forever, perhaps he realized that. You've changed too. Did you imagine when you were young that you'd have a flatmate and be solving crimes?"

"No." Sherlock admitted, "I never imagined that Mycroft could change. He's always been a fixed point in my life."

"From what you've explained to me, it does sound like he's got PTSD. I'm not surprised, to be honest, as he has a very intense job." John replied, "But with something like PTSD you can't force treatment onto someone. If anything, that would probably increase their stress and make them worse."

"What do we do then?" Sherlock asked with a sigh.

"When was the last time that you hugged your brother? When did you last spend time together as brothers without arguing or winding each other up?" John asked.

"Why would I want to spend time with Mycroft? He's boring." Sherlock said, a frown on his face.

"That's the point I'm trying to make!" John exclaimed, "Your brother is suffering, for whatever reasons, and it's important that he has a support network around him. I know that emotion and love don't come naturally to the two of you, but I think you should try to spend time with Mycroft."

* * *

Sherlock walked into Mycroft's home office and placed the board game Monopoly on the desk over paperwork that Mycroft was working on.

"What's this?" Mycroft asked in confusion.

"Monopoly. We're going to play it now." Sherlock replied, dragging up a chair and sitting down opposite Mycroft.

"I'm working. I haven't got time for games." Mycroft said.

"Brother, I would like to play a game with Monopoly with you." Sherlock said, determined to get his own way.

"Has John put you up to this?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes. I know it's dull, but he insists the game will help." Sherlock replied, opening the box.

Mycroft cleared his paperwork away as Sherlock set up the board on the desk. He handed Mycroft his token, the battleship, and chose his own token, the racecar. For almost four hours, the brothers sat together, completely absorbed in their game of Monopoly. They played fairly and strategically, wanting an honest result. Mycroft won and smiled as he collected his winnings from Sherlock.

"You should have gone into finance or property, brother. You'd be a billionaire by now." Sherlock teased as he cleared the game away.

"I enjoy my work, although as I approach 50, I am considering another career. There's only so much politics that one can take." Mycroft admitted.

"In my head, you're still 19 and an Oxford undergraduate." Sherlock said with a smile.

"In my head, I'm 19 too." Mycroft chuckled, "But alas, middle age gets to us all in the end. We're not children anymore, perhaps it's time to put the past behind us?"

Sherlock got to his feet and walked around the desk, "Stand up." he said awkwardly.

"Why?" Mycroft asked, looking up at his brother.

"Please don't make this anymore awkward that it is already. Stand up." Sherlock replied.

Mycroft stood up and was shocked when his younger brother leaned in and hugged him. It lasted just seconds before the two of them pulled away.

"Never again." Mycroft said, sitting back down.

"Agreed. What was John thinking of? We'll do deductions next time. I'll be able to beat you at that." Sherlock said, leaving the room.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Here's Chapter 7! Let me know what you think! =]**_

* * *

"You're not going to hold my hand for my first day back at work, are you?" Mycroft teased as Sherlock handed him his umbrella, coat and gloves. He was wearing a black pinstripe suit with a burgundy tie. He looked his usual in control and powerful self.

"I think you'll manage. Anthea will keep an eye on you." Sherlock replied with a smile.

Mycroft nodded to his brother and made his way down the front steps to his car. He slipped inside with ease and was whisked away to his office. Anthea was waiting for him at the office with coffee and a pastry. She'd laid out his desk perfectly, so everything was ready for him to begin work again. She'd worked hard in his absence but knew that she'd never be as good as Mycroft Holmes. He was a legend in the corridors of power; he was the British Government's secret weapon.

"Good morning, Mr Holmes. Welcome back." Anthea said with a smile, meeting him at the lift.

"Good morning, Anthea. What's my schedule for today?" Mycroft replied, falling back into their usual routine with a smile.

"You've got members of the French delegation coming to see you for a meeting. They were keen to negotiate with you personally so have halted all political talks until you came back." Anthea replied, "They're flying over from Charles de Gaulle in Paris. They should arrive here in about two hours."

"Will you see to it that they are provided with luxury cars and refreshments upon arrival here? We need to keep them on our side as it was them that kept finding fault with my proposals." Mycroft replied.

"Of course, Sir. Later today, you'll also be speaking via video link with Brussels. I believe the EU have questions over some of our interrogation practices." Anthea said, looking through the calendar on her tablet. She had a variety of gadgets and made sure to use all of them in some way or another.

* * *

"How did it go?" John asked as he handed Mycroft a cup of black coffee. The man had immediately sat down in the living room, still wearing his coat, gloves and shoes.

"It was awful, John." Mycroft admitted with a sigh.

"What happened? Were the cravings bad?" John asked, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

"Oh no, John. It's nothing to do with cravings. There's going to be a Royal Commission into the interrogation practices of Her Majesty's Government." Mycroft said with a sigh, "I'm going to have to speak on oath about the torture of Moriarty, amongst others."

"Oh." John said, not really knowing what to say.

"That means, John, that if I am found guilty of authorizing torture then I will probably go to jail." Mycroft hissed, clearly annoyed.

"And have you authorized torture?" John asked.

"Of course, John. Keep up! My job relies on torturing criminals for information. How else would we find out about their plans?" Mycroft replied.

"Can't you just say that? That it's wrong but you're protecting millions of lives by torturing just a handful of individuals?" John suggested.

"Of course not, John. We need to appear completely squeaky clean. If the inquiry finds evidence of malpractice, then not only will I go to jail, but the EU will wade in and try to regulate Her Majesty's secret service." Mycroft explained, "Anthea and I spent most of our afternoon shredding evidence and destroying computer files."

"That's your plan? To try and get rid of as much evidence as possible? Won't that look even more suspicious?" John asked, "Why don't you ask Sherlock for help?"

"No. Sherlock can't be involved." Mycroft said, pulling out a silver cigarette case, "Cigarette?"

"No, I don't smoke." John replied, but accepted one of the cigarettes when Mycroft continued to hold out the case. Mycroft leaned over with his lighter and lit John's cigarette before lighting his own. It was a couple of moments before John realized that the smoke tasted and smelt strange. "Is that pot?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded as he inhaled the smoke, "It's a life saver." he said.

"I can't smoke pot with you, Mycroft. I'm a doctor, for Christ's sake, and you're a recovering cocaine addict!" John exclaimed.

"Just relax and enjoy it, doctor." Mycroft replied.

* * *

Sherlock could smell the pot as soon as he entered the house. He frowned a little and looked around the house for John and Mycroft. The two men were lying outside on Mycroft's lawn, sharing a joint and laughing.

"And then he said to Mummy, _'But it was Mycroft's fault, he stole the treasure!'."_ Mycroft said and both he and John erupted into laughter.

"Please tell me you're not smoking pot and talking about me." Sherlock said with a sigh as he approached them, "I take it that work went badly, Mycroft?"

"He's going to jail!" John announced.

"Jail, Mycroft? It's about time for you to be in jail, don't you think?" Sherlock replied.

"It's an inquiry. Jail is 85% likely." Mycroft said, looking up at his sibling.

"You'll get an even longer term in jail is they discover your drug use. How long is the list? Cocaine, alcohol, marijuana..." Sherlock said.

"LSD..." Mycroft supplied to Sherlock's list.

"LSD? Really?" John asked in surprise.

"I tried it once, but all I got was hallucinations of Sherlock. He was his normal irritating self but worse." Mycroft explained with a frown, "It didn't work for me, so I moved on from it."

"You really are an idiot, brother." Sherlock sighed, "Come inside, both of you. I need to know more about this inquiry so we can plan your defence."

"You're going to be my defence lawyer?" Mycroft laughed.

"What's so funny? I studied Criminal Law at Cambridge." Sherlock argued.

"You didn't graduate from Cambridge. They asked you to leave." Mycroft reminded him.

"A minor technicality." Sherlock muttered with a wave of his hand.


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft stood and placed his hand on the Bible that was held out to him. "I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." he said with ease.

"Take a seat, Mr Holmes, and turn to page 5 of your folder," said the head of the commission, "You'll see that the document in the folder is your job description. You are Head of Intelligence Gathering for MI5, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." Mycroft replied, looking at the document.

"Would you say that your job required more skills than are listed on your job description?" the man asked.

"Yes, I would say that. My job requires problem solving and initiative so lots of skills are needed." Mycroft said.

"You also work for MI6 and GCHQ, is that correct?" the investigator asked.

"Yes, that's correct, but I'm unable to disclose my job roles. They are related to my primary role of intelligence gathering." Mycroft replied.

"I'll get straight to the point, Mr Holmes. Have you, or any of your staff, been involved with torture during your intelligence gathering?"

"No, Sir. We carry out our work with care and make sure to follow the policies set down by the United Nations Human Rights Council. We have never, and would never, torture a human being for information." Mycroft replied.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. We'll be in touch. Next to speak is Miss Anthea Jones." the investigator said.

Mycroft got to his feet and left the room, being careful not to make eye contact with Anthea as they walked past each other. Any action would be considered suspicious while they were under investigation.

"Miss Jones, you are the personal assistant of Mr Mycroft Holmes, the Head of Intelligence Gathering for MI5, is that correct?" the man asked.

"Yes, Sir. I run Mr Holmes' schedule and delegate files and assignments to the Intelligence Officers in our department." Anthea replied.

"I'll ask you the same question, Miss Jones, have you ever put in an order for torture?" the investigator asked.

"No, Sir." Anthea replied.

"Thank you, Miss Jones." the man replied.

* * *

"Did you both say what I told you to?" Sherlock asked as Mycroft and Anthea arrived at Mycroft's home.

"Of course, brother." Mycroft replied, "Although I'm not sure why your words are any different than mine. We're not about to stand up and admit our guilt."

"I don't know how they can investigate the secret service. Surely the whole idea is that it's secret?" John said.

"Excellent logic, John." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"It's just our turn for an inquiry. Almost every government department has an inquiry once every ten years." Anthea said, "It's to reassure the public and to keep the politicians happy."

"It's an annoying disruption to assignments and interrogations. We can't do anything that might be frowned upon until the inquiry ends, but that could be months." Mycroft said, "Anyway, there's nothing we can do now. Goodnight, my dear. I'll see you in the morning." he added to Anthea.

Anthea smiled, "Goodnight, Mr Holmes." she replied, leaving the house and being driven home in the car.

Mycroft hung up his umbrella and slipped off his shoes and coat, going straight into the kitchen for coffee.

"So, you and Anthea then?" John said.

"What?" Mycroft asked in confusion.

"Have you considered Anthea as an option for you? As a girlfriend?" John prompted.

"No. I don't take part in _relationships_." Mycroft replied.

"Why not? Anthea seems nice. You could be happy. She clearly likes you." John replied.

"Anthea is my personal assistant. We are both professionals and dedicate our lives to our work." Mycroft replied without looking up.

"So that's it then? You'll just live your life alone? What about when you retire?" John asked.

"I doubt I'll retire, John. In my line of work, retirement isn't an option. You work and then you are disposed of." Mycroft explained, "I know far too many state secrets to be allowed to retire. It'll be an assassination, quick and easy to hide as the work of a terrorist or a disgruntled staff member."

"You seem to have accepted that as your future." John said sadly.

"Oh yes, John. I've planned it. It's an assignment already written up, ready for when it may be needed." Mycroft replied, "There's no point in leaving your death to be planned by another."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Let me know what you think =]**_

* * *

"He's apparently planned his death and he has it all in a file somewhere." John said once he and Sherlock were alone together in the living room.

"That's not particularly surprising, John. Mycroft has always been controlling." Sherlock replied, not looking up from John's laptop.

"Surely it's a little worrying that a man with drug problems and PTSD is planning his own death?" John replied.

Sherlock shrugged, "It's part of his job." he said, "He's probably got lots of plans sat on his desk."

"How did he get to be the British Government?" John asked.

"Mycroft studied Politics at Oxford, where he met the politicians of the future. Through networking, he wormed his way into the Ministry of Defense. He's been in his current role since he was 28." Sherlock replied, typing away on the laptop.

"Has he not been promoted in all that time?" John asked curiously.

"He's been offered promotions and honours from Her Majesty, but he prefers to be in an office collecting information rather than in the public eye." Sherlock explained, "He despises the thought of someone having the upper hand. He wants, and I think he probably needs, to be in control."

"No wonder he constantly worries about you. You're the picture of unpredictability." John chuckled, picking up one of Mycroft's copies of The Times.

"He doesn't worry, he interferes." Sherlock replied.

* * *

"Good evening, brother, John." Mycroft said as he entered the living room after work.

"John and I will be moving back to Baker Street tomorrow." Sherlock said in reply.

"Oh good, my house can be free of scientific experiments again." Mycroft replied, sitting down on the sofa.

"Now you've gotten a grip, we need to go home to get back to our cases." Sherlock continued, "You're also technically my client, so I can't live with you."

Mycroft laughed, "I'm not your client. You've decided to get involved without any request from me."

"It would be particularly inconvenient to me if you were to go to prison, brother. Who's ID would I use at military bases?" Sherlock replied.

"I'd hate to be an inconvenience to you, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket.

"It looks like we're the inconvenience, John. Do you need some time alone to text Anthea, brother?" Sherlock teased.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock." Mycroft snapped, getting up and leaving the living room.

"He's getting sentimental in his old age." Sherlock chuckled.

"Middle age, Sherlock. He's not that much older than you." John replied with a laugh.

"He's 7 years older than me." Sherlock replied, "He's not far away from 50!"

"You're so harsh, Sherlock." John teased, "I think that it's sweet that Mycroft and Anthea have a bond."

* * *

Anthea let herself in to Mycroft's home with her key. She walked through the hallway to the kitchen as quietly as she could in her heels.

"Anthea?" John called from the doorway of the living room.

"Hi. I have dinner for Mycroft." Anthea said as she turned to face John, holding up a bag of takeaway, "Sorry if I gave you a shock."

"I didn't know you had a key." John replied.

"I'm Mycroft's PA, it's kind of essential that I have a key." Anthea replied, "Anyway, Mycroft's waiting..."

"Yes, sorry. Carry on." John replied, going back to sit down in the living room.

Anthea continued through to the kitchen where she placed the bag down on the counter. Mycroft was pouring out red wine into two glasses and already had the kitchen island set up for dinner.

"What did you bring?" Mycroft asked.

"Takeaway from that french restaurant in Camden that you like." Anthea replied, carefully getting the containers out of the bag.

"You went all the way to Camden and back?" Mycroft asked in surprise.

"Of course. I didn't think that McDonald's Drive-Thru is your style." Anthea teased as she served the food onto the waiting plates.

"You know me so well, my dear." Mycroft chuckled, putting the wine in the centre of the island and sitting down on one side.

Anthea sat down opposite him, "Cheers." she said, clinking her glass with his before she sipped the wine, "That's nice."

"Yes, it's a vintage from 1990. It's aged well and is a bargain for £3000." Mycroft replied, placing his glass down.

"£3000 for one bottle?" Anthea replied in shock, "You shouldn't waste such a large amount of money on me, Sir."

"Anthea, you are worth much more to me than a bottle of red wine." Mycroft replied.

"Thank you, Sir." Anthea replied with a slight blush.

"Did you manage to destroy all of the files that I put aside for you?" Mycroft asked as he tucked into his meal.

"Yes, Sir. Although some of the computer drives are proving much more difficult to destroy. Even when I burn them, there are bits of metal left over that reveal fire damage. I've been careful not to give anyone in the office an indication that we're destroying things." Anthea said.

"Good. We must be careful to cover our tracks." Mycroft replied with a nod, "Are you taking part in the raid in Battersea tomorrow?"

"Of course, Sir. I'm taking your place since you've been banned." Anthea replied with a smile, "I'm one of the back-up team, so I shouldn't need to be part of any gun battles. I'm hoping it'll be straightforward so I can be back in the office by lunchtime."

"Do be careful, my dear. Now is not the time for me to hire another PA." Mycroft said, sipping his wine.

* * *

Mycroft watched the Battersea raid from his home office monitors. He was supposed to be helping John and Sherlock to box their things, but his worry had gotten the better of him. With an ordinary tobacco cigarette between his lips, he watched as the agents forced their way into a building. His eyes strayed to Anthea in the back-up team and he focused on her as he watched the footage. He swore and dropped his cigarette, burning a hole in his shirt sleeve as she was hit by a bullet. He stubbed out the cigarette and picked up his mobile, calling for a private car to bring her to his home.

Mycroft went straight to the kitchen and cleaned everything down, pulling out his emergency medical kit and sterilizing the equipment.

"What are you doing?" John asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Anthea has been shot. She's on her way." Mycroft replied without looking up.

"Shouldn't you let me do that? I'm a doctor." John suggested.

"Thank you for your offer, but your hands aren't nearly steady enough for a surgical procedure. I'll do it myself." Mycroft replied.

"Have you had any medical training?" John demanded.

"Yes. I have dealt with many of my own bullet wounds, doctor." Mycroft replied, his voice turning cold as he was questioned.

Anthea was carried in by another agent and carefully put down on the kitchen counter.

"I got the bullet out on the way." Anthea said softly, dropping the bloody bullet onto the counter beside her.

"Good. Any internal bleeding?" Mycroft asked.

"No. It just caught me, so the wound will only need stitching." Anthea replied.

John stayed nearby but didn't interfere as Mycroft carefully stitched the wound on Anthea's arm. His actions were gentle and practiced and Anthea allowed him to work without any pain relief. Whilst his brother had been more interested in chemistry, Mycroft had always preferred biology.

"Have you got any of that wine left?" Anthea asked with a chuckle as Mycroft worked, "I think I'll need some after this."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Here's a brand new chapter. Please review and let me know what you think!**_

* * *

For the first time in a long time, the two Holmes brothers sat in the same room without arguing. Mycroft and Sherlock sat in the leather armchairs whilst Anthea and John shared the large sofa. John typed his blog of the latest case and Sherlock sorted through his memory palace, moving memories to different rooms. Mycroft worked on paperwork he'd brought back from work the following day, with assistance from Anthea and her Blackberry.

"This one just needs a signature and a date if you're happy with it. It's an official agenda from the meeting on Monday." Anthea said, handing over a document for Mycroft to examine.

Mycroft looked through the papers before he signed his name and dated the document, placing it down on a side table with the rest of the finished paperwork.

Anthea handed him another perfectly typed document and he stopped, looking up, "Anthea, this is your resignation." he said, surprise in his voice. Even John and Sherlock looked up, interested in the exchange.

"Yes, Sir." Anthea replied with a nod and a smile.

"Okay, Anthea. I accept your resignation." Mycroft said without demanding an explanation, instead he just signed the document to accept the resignation.

"You're leaving your job? Why?" John asked.

"A conflict of interest has arisen. It's no longer appropriate for me to work as Mr Holmes' personal assistant." Anthea replied simply.

"What conflict of interest?" John asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say due to the confidential nature of our work." Anthea said, replying with a default answer that offered no more insight into the matter.

* * *

With Mycroft in the kitchen fetching more drinks, Sherlock examined Anthea from his armchair.

"You want to be with Mycroft. In a relationship." Sherlock announced, causing Anthea to blush furiously.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed.

"You think there's a conflict of interest because of how you feel. You're wrong. If anything, your...attraction...to my brother would make you an even more invaluable PA." Sherlock continued.

"There are policies that we must abide to in the workplace. I am unwilling to risk Mr Holmes' reputation because of my emotions." Anthea replied.

"Most of those policies were written by Mycroft. You are useful to him, he would create a loophole for you." Sherlock said.

"No. He shouldn't have to do that for me." Anthea replied, going back to her Blackberry as Mycroft returned with a tray of drinks. With just a glance around the room, Mycroft was able to deduce the conversation that had taken place without him in the room.

"Anthea, I have a vacancy that I would be pleased if you would consider." Mycroft said as he handed her a glass of wine, "I require a personal assistant and a companion. Your role would include all the tasks you currently do and a companion role also."

"I would gladly accept the job, Mr Holmes." Anthea replied with a smile.

"Did you just offer her the job of being your girlfriend?" John snorted.

" _Girlfriend_ is such a vulgar term, John. I prefer companion." Mycroft replied as he ripped up Anthea's resignation document, "Please Anthea, call me Mycroft."

* * *

"Congratulations on finding a goldfish." Sherlock smirked as he and John were leaving to go home to 221B.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Sherlock." Mycroft said, "I'm sure Anthea will soon see sense and realize how tedious my lifestyle is."

"You'll have to keep up your diet, brother. You don't want to repulse your new _girlfriend_." Sherlock said before he left the house, flicking the collar of his coat up.

"Ignore him. He's pleased for you." John said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you, John." Mycroft replied, shaking the doctor's hand before he closed the front door.

* * *

Anthea looked up when Mycroft returned to the living room. "So, we should talk this through." she said.

"Yes, we should." Mycroft agreed, sitting back down in his armchair.

"I like you. I like your personality." Anthea said, looking down at her hands.

"I feel the same." Mycroft replied with a nod.

"I don't want anything physical. Not yet, at least. It'll take time for us to adjust to being close." Anthea said.

"I agree." Mycroft said, "Now, shall we order in dinner?"


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Here's the final chapter! Please do review and let me know what you think!**_

* * *

With Sherlock and John living back at 221B Baker Street, they hardly saw Mycroft and Anthea. Mycroft's sinister black cars still followed them around the city as they rushed around on cases but Mycroft himself only visited briefly every few weeks.

John's phone bleeped as a text message arrived, causing him to look up from the paper. _Mycroft requires Sherlock's assistance. - A_

"Anthea has just text me. Mycroft has requested you." John said, looking over at Sherlock.

"Oh joy. I can't wait to visit my dear brother." Sherlock said dryly.

"The results of the inquiry are due soon." John said, "Do you think Mycroft will be arrested?"

"Of course not, John. Her Majesty would never allow it." Sherlock replied as he got to his feet, "We'd better visit him or he'll only turn up here."

"Be nice." John said as he got to his feet, "He's left you alone so you should be kinder towards him."

"He's Mycroft. I've been stuck with him for my whole life." Sherlock said as he pulled on his coat.

* * *

"Come inside." Anthea said with a smile, opening the front door.

"Anthea." Sherlock said with a nod, walking straight past her and into Mycroft's home office.

"Hi Anthea." John said with a smile, "How are you?"

"Really well, thank you, John." Anthea replied with a smile, "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you. Tea would be great." John said.

Anthea led the way through the house to the kitchen. It was obvious that Anthea had moved into Mycroft's home as it wasn't a cold and sterile environment anymore. She'd added female touches such as flowers, cushions and pictures on the walls. She moved around the kitchen quickly, preparing four cups of tea. She handed John his cup before she carried the other three cups into Mycroft's office on a tray.

Sherlock and Mycroft were arguing, as usual, but both of them stopped to drink their tea.

"Thank you, dearest." Mycroft said with a smile to Anthea, placing the cup down on his desk.

"So you've been called to one last meeting and you plan on announcing your relationship with your PA. That's madness, brother!" Sherlock continued the argument.

"It's not madness, it's honesty!" Mycroft protested.

"It's a conflict of interest! They'd re-examine all of the evidence and statements you've given them. Until the inquiry is over, you and Anthea must remain completely professional." Sherlock insisted.

"Our professionalism has nothing to do with our relationship. Our jobs are our lives." Mycroft insisted.

"Perhaps Sherlock is right?" Anthea said softly.

"Of course I'm right." Sherlock said.

"It won't be long until the inquiry is over." Anthea added.

"I would rather tell them the truth than them find out that we have hidden information." Mycroft replied with a sigh.

"Your job is to hide information!" Sherlock exclaimed, "I don't see how this is such a problem for you!"

"This is different. This isn't work." Mycroft tried to explain, "This is sentiment."

* * *

Mycroft and Anthea arrived at the meeting together. They wore coordinated outfits and prepared for any eventuality. They were a team and always presented a strong, united front.

"Mr Holmes, Miss Jones, we've called you here today to ask if you have any more to tell us before we come to a conclusion." one of the investigators said to open the meeting.

"Mr Holmes and I are in a relationship." Anthea said, "We understand that it's a conflict of interest, however we feel that it makes us a stronger and more reliable team."

"That is for us to decide, Miss Jones." the man replied, making notes in his file.

"Aside from our relationship, we have no further information to submit to the inquiry." Mycroft said, "Thank you for your time."

After being dismissed by the investigators, Mycroft took Anthea's hand and left the room with her. It was rare for Mycroft to show any kind of emotion at work but he thought it was important to show the inquiry that their relationship wasn't just an office fling.

* * *

"Have the inquiry results arrived yet?" Sherlock asked as he arrived in his usual dramatic style.

"No, we're still waiting for them." Anthea replied from the sofa.

"But it's now 10am!" Sherlock exclaimed in frustration.

"I doubt delivery men strive to deliver everything before 10am. What else would they do all day?" Mycroft replied from his usual armchair, not looking up from his newspaper.

"You're both very calm." John said from beside Sherlock.

"What would be the point in not being calm? Our fate is out of our hands." Mycroft replied simply.

The doorbell rang and Anthea made her way to the front door. She briefly chatted with the delivery man, signing his handset before she brought the sealed envelope into the living room. All four of them were silent as Anthea sliced open the letter with a letter opener. She pulled out the papers and began to scan them, looking for the final conclusion.

" _We find the Head of Intelligence Gathering and his department not guilty of any wrongdoing after a submission of unexpected evidence from the Secretary of State for Defence._ " Anthea read before she looked up with a smile, "Your contacts finally stepped up, Mycroft."

"I knew they would. If I were to be removed from office then they too would be examined." Mycroft replied.

"Don't lie, brother. You expected jail." Sherlock said, taking the documents from Anthea and examining them.

"I like to think that I am far too important for jail." Mycroft replied, getting to his feet, "Champagne anyone?"

"We can have champagne tonight. We need to go to the office and reassure the staff." Anthea said, following Mycroft out into the hallway and up the stairs.

* * *

"You two are sickening." Sherlock said as they came down the stairs. Mycroft wore his black three-piece pinstripe suit with a burgundy tie whilst Anthea wore a more plain skirt and jacket but with a burgundy blouse.

"What's wrong with them?" John asked, looking at Mycroft and Anthea.

"Their outfits _match_." Sherlock said in mock horror.

"I think it's nice." John replied, watching Anthea help Mycroft into his black coat.

"They reek of sentiment. Revolting." Sherlock said, "Whatever happened to _caring is not an advantage_ , brother?"

"Caring isn't an advantage, but it is a calculated risk." Mycroft replied, taking his umbrella and walking towards the front door, "Do remember to lock up when you finally leave my home, brother. Help yourselves to tea."

Taking Anthea's hand and opening the front door, Mycroft led the way to the car that was waiting in front of the house. Without looking back, they got into the car and were driven away to the office.

"You're going to have to learn to cope with them being a couple. What if he asks you to be his best man?" John said to Sherlock.

"His best man?!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"They like each other so he might marry her." John said with a shrug.

"Marriage is far too _common_ for Mycroft." Sherlock snorted.

"Perhaps." John replied, "Come on, let's make some tea."


End file.
